


be still my foolish heart (don't ruin this on me)

by maybankiara (juggyjones)



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Lack of Communication, Light Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Tension, but there may be a little something he does like about kie against his will, he also doesn't know how to express himself so dickish flirting ensues, jj doesn't like new people that much, kie is new to the group's house and it results in interesting dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28514799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juggyjones/pseuds/maybankiara
Summary: ‘Okay, what’s your deal, then? Why’d you come all the way here from Outer Banks on such a short notice? What are you running from?’The blue light is behind JJ, softening his silhouette and making him look like he’s glowing. Menacing or benevolent, Kie would go for the former. Her blood runs cold and that’s not a feeling she wants to experience in her new home.(But the way he’s looking at her, it’s not menacing. It’s curious – it’s as if he wants to gauge her reaction more than the answer itself.)What are you running from?Instead of giving him what he wants, Kie takes a sip of her tea and ignores the liquid scorching her tongue. ‘That’s for you to find out.’JJ raises his eyebrows and she thinks she sees a smile betraying him in the corners of his lips, shaking his head. ‘See?’‘See what?’‘Questions,’ he says, ‘they’re too much.’— in which kie falls out with her parents and moves across the country, and ends up kind of getting herself into a slightly complicated situation with one of the boys she moves in with.
Relationships: JJ & Kiara & Pope & John B. Routledge, JJ Maybank/Kiara Carrera, Kiara Carrera & Sarah Cameron
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	be still my foolish heart (don't ruin this on me)

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings:** there might be explicit sexual content later on, but i haven't excited just _how_ explicit yet, so that tag (and the rating) may end up being added and changed. also, jj is a bit of a dick for a part of this, and it's intentional (and doesn't last forever)  
> also, it's 1am, and this has been beta'd by yours truly so if something slipped, i'll fix it in the morning!

_ be still my foolish heart (don’t ruin this on me) _

Moving to Kildare is a decision Kie makes in about fifteen minutes, on a rainy Thursday. After spending four years getting her degree and a year travelling the world, returning home is nearly unfathomable. It’s a month of endless arguing, of never seeing eye to eye, and her parents’ inability to understand that she isn’t their “little Kie” anymore.

She’s had enough, so Kildare it is.

Moving to a place she’s only heard of once or twice in passing is better than living with parents who don’t give a damn about what she wants.

She packs up her belongings, counts her savings, and sets out for the town on the West Coast. No plane ticket – the prospect of a four-day bus trip is daunting, but she’s put herself through worse. The important thing is that there is nothing worthy she’s left behind.

Kie lets herself change her mind until she reaches the bus station at Chapel Hill. When she boards the bus and sits down next to an elderly man that she’ll be sitting next to for hours until the next transfer, she scours Craigslist for housemates.

If she’s moving to Kildare, she’s  _ moving  _ to Kildare.

The adventure doesn’t end until she lets it.

She finds a decent-looking apartment with four housemates urgently looking for a fifth. It’s cheap, too – she’s applying to jobs as the day turns into night, but there’s no guarantee of getting it. Her savings won’t last her a lifetime; she needs to get her life kickstarted.

By the time she steps foot in Kildare, it’s Monday morning, and she has a place to live.

John B. Routledge is the first housemate she meets. He’s the one who posted the ad and he’s the one who answers her calls (throughout the following days, video calls, too). He’s also the one who picks her up from the bus station.

Kie thinks about this situation as she makes her way off the bus, waiting for the driver to open the cargo so she can get her two suitcases. She is essentially agreeing to go live with four boys (granted, they’re all also in early twenties), across the country, because one of them seemed like he’s not going to kill her.

The driver takes out her suitcases and she goes to fetch them, adding a quiet ‘Thank you, have a good day.’

She walks off the bus stop and into the station, glancing around for a tall boy with floppy brown hair and a kind face. Possibly with a red bandanna wrapped around his neck. The boy is a little eccentric—and possibly overenthusiastic—but he seems kind, and he’s willing to give her a hand.

Kie doesn’t forget kindness easily.

John B ends up waiting for her at the entrance into the station, hands relaxing in the pockets of his jean shorts. His face stretches into a grin as soon as he lays his eyes on her.

‘Hey, Kiara!’

She returns the smile. ‘Hey.’

He approaches her, wearing the bandanna just like she thought. He paired it off with a half-buttoned shirt that’s almost see through – it’s the look she’d see him wearing to the beach, not to pick up his new housemate.

( _ Don’t judge before you meet _ , she reminds herself.)

John B goes in for a hug, and she awkwardly wraps her hands around his back. When they part, he glances around. ‘I’ll help you out with the suitcases.’

‘Thanks, but you don’t have to—’

‘I can’t let you carry all of that yourself,’ he argues, already reaching for the suitcases. ‘C’mon. You spent  _ days  _ getting here.’

Accepting that he has a point, she lets him take over, but keeps her backpack. They’re actually faster this way, too. John B tells her he parked a little out of the parking lot so he wouldn’t need to “pay the outrageous price”, and the refusal of going with the system warms her heart a little.

John B’s taller than her by a few inches and he’s got that broad-shouldered, chiselled-body look from what she can tell (his muscles are literally about to pop out of his shirt.) Usually, going into a car with someone like this and letting them drive her to their place would feel ridiculous, but the boy looks as far from menacing as possible.

(Still, Kie tells herself she’d fend him off if she had to. Truth is, she’s crashing from the lack of proper sleep and she hasn’t had food in over twelve hours and she’s a  _ little  _ bit exhausted.)

His car is actually an orange van filled with trinkets belonging to him and his friends; when Kie climbs into it, it feels as if it has a personality of its own. It’s as brown on the inside as it is on the outside, and she likes the whole hippie, surfer vibe it’s going on. She’s not sure if that extends to its owners, but she’s happy to find out.

John B takes care of the suitcases. She throws the backpack with them, relishing in not having to carry anything for the first time in days.

‘There’s a sandwich for you.’ John B reaches into the glove department, taking out something that Kie never would’ve guessed is a sandwich. ‘Pope made it. He’s pretty good with food.’

‘Okay, thanks.’

Kie takes it and examines it a little. John B drives them onto the road, driving close to the beach – she looks out with longing in her heart. It makes her decide to not be ungrateful and takes a bite into the sandwich that, surprisingly, actually turns out to be delicious.

John B takes a turn. ‘You ready to see your new home?’

(Kie is starting to think that smile is permanently etched on his face.)

‘Temporary home,’ she emphasises, then flinches at the intensity of her own tone. ‘Sorry. I’ve had a few long days. Right now, a bed is all I can think about.’

‘We set up your bed yesterday. The whole room is in a really good state.’ 

They get onto a bigger road and right into the traffic, but John B doesn’t seem to mind. He puts on a chill reggae song ( _ is this really happening? did she get  _ that  _ lucky? _ ) and hums to it, before turning back to Kie.

‘Sarah actually insisted on getting you some new bedsheets and all, so it’s all ready for you.’

‘Sarah?’

‘My girlfriend. She lives downstairs.’

‘Oh, that’s nice.’

‘Yeah, she’s pretty nice,’ says John B, in this half-dazed voice that tells Kie the couple is definitely still in the honeymoon phase. ‘How was the sandwich, by the way?’

‘It was amazing, thanks.’

He doesn’t ask anything else and she doesn’t have anything to say, so she puts up the volume up the tiniest bit, and lets herself relax a little. (Even if she’s about to be sacrificed to a cult – she deserves to  _ breathe _ .)

Kildare is prettier in real life than in pictures. It’s one of the older fishing towns, with modern job prospects only flourishing in the past half a century, so most of the houses are ancient, for American standards. The beach is nice and although the waves don’t seem to be the same, she knows she’ll manage. She plans to make herself busy in town, anyway, but knowing that she’s not bound to land is soothing enough.

‘So,’ says John B after the second Marley song ends. ‘What’s your story?’

‘Oh, quite boring, actually,’ she admits. ‘Squabbled with my parents and decided to move to the other end of the country.’

‘Ah.’

‘Yeah.’

He ponders over her words a little, then gives her a glance and a warm smile. ‘Kildare is a pretty good place to start a new life.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Mhm. The best, actually. We’ve got everything you could possibly need.’

The hints of humour in his voice drag a smile out of her, too. ‘What, like housemates who try to pull a  _ Hotel California  _ on you?’

John B lets out a hearty laugh. ‘Exactly! But don’t tell the others.’

He embarks on a brief history of Kildare and manages to entertain her enough to keep her from falling asleep – she thinks he might be a tour guide. John B’s lived here his entire life, only moving to the city when his dad died a few years ago. He could go back to his “Chateau”, but he says there’s something nice about having his old home be a getaway, now.

By the time they actually arrive at John B’s—their—apartment, Kie feels like she knows exactly what the boy with the bandanna around his neck is made of. He’s quite simple and easy to understand.

Kie likes simple.

When they pull up in the parking lot of their apartment complex, a boy John B refers to as their housemate Pope is waiting on the porch. He ends up being a tall, dark-skinned boy John B’s age with a little less enthusiasm, but a little more maturity. He’s wearing a shirt over a tee and a pair of shorts, shaking her hand.

‘Hey, Kiara. I’m glad to finally have you here,’ he says, giving her a smile that’s more reserved than John B’s. ‘Are you sure you’re okay being with four boys?’

It’s half serious and half a joke, but she chuckles regardless. ‘I guess I’ll have to be.’

John B appears at her side, handing Pope one of her suitcases. ‘She’ll be fine. She likes reggae and I think she likes the beach, she’ll fit right in.’

Kie just looks at him, eyebrows raised.

All she gets in return is a shrug and another smile. ‘What? I saw you staring at the beach and don’t tell me you turned up the volume on that Bob Marley song.’

‘I love Bob Marley.’

‘Good, because we are all very fond of Mr Marley,’ says Pope. He tilts his head then, frowns, and looks over at his friend. ‘Does Kelce like Bob Marley?’

‘Dunno.’

‘Huh. Well, we should probably get going.’

In the end, Kie enters their apartment building with the bandanna boy behind her, and Pope in the front. Each of the boys is carrying a suitcase and John B took it upon himself to carry the backpack, too; the lack of any weight, for the first time in  _ days,  _ feels disconcerting.

‘So on the ground floor, there’s the Glissons,’ John B tells her. ‘A pretty charming family with one kid, but they can be loud sometimes. I can hear the kid screaming in the backyard from my window.’ 

John B ends up telling her the stories of all residents as they walk up the stairs. It’s interesting, and it’s all the people she’ll be seeing around for a while, but Kie can’t pay attention for more than two minutes for the life of her. Judging by the way Pope’s shoulders are slumped, he’s not listening to the boy, either.

‘This is Sarah’s apartment,’ John B says, with a smile on his face once again. ‘She’ll come by later, she’s at work right now, but she’s really excited to meet you.’

‘Oh, I’m excited to meet her, too.’

__ Kie finds it a little odd that everybody seems so excited to meet her, but doesn’t dwell on it. Maybe it’s normal, and she’s the odd one.

‘Yeah, she said she stalked you on Instagram, or something.’ He frowns a little, eyes shifting from Kie to Pope. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.’

Kie feels the tug at the corners of her mouth. ‘It’s okay. I don’t mind.’

At least being excited after stalking her Instagram account and therefore knowing  _ something  _ about her (travelling, blogging, feminism, activism, and probably some other stuff) makes sense for someone to be excited.

(She’s also slightly taken aback at John B’s tone insinuating that the boys  _ didn’t  _ perform a background check on her before letting her stay with them. She certainly did one on them – or tried, really, because they didn’t end up being much of social media people.)

‘So,’ says Pope, ‘here we are.’

The trio don’t dwell before opening the door to the apartment. It’s a rather newish place with walls painted a soft, creamy brown; right behind the door is a massive coat rack with a variety of styles displayed on it – from leather to plaid jackets, and an occasional winter coat. The smell of the flat is nice, surprisingly. Sweet.

John B gets in behind them, her suitcase creaking as he pulls it over the doorstep, and shuts the door.

‘So? What do you think?’ Pope has a nervous look on his face.

‘It looks nice, so far,’ Kie says, giving him a smile.

‘So  _ far,’  _ John B chuckles. ‘Just wait till you see what we have done with the living room.’

‘Alright, show me. Better sooner than later.’

‘You’re gonna love it,’ says Pope, in a voice that’s either really genuine or oddly sarcastic.

She doesn’t have the time to build up expectations before the boys urge to keep going forward. They pass Pope’s bedroom on the left, next to the first bathroom, and Kelce’s bedroom is on the right. The hallway widens in the front and there’s a corridor that extends to each side – she thinks it’s a little weird that the middle of the flat is basically an intersection but hey, she’s not an architect. John B tells her it’s him and JJ on the left, and Kie’s on the right, with the second bathroom and a storage/laundry room to keep her company.

In front of them is a massive open-plan living room/kitchen, painted a very soothing baby blue all over. The room seems to be split in half by an island counter with barstools propped up around it – kitchen elements are to the left, and the couch and the medium-sized TV with a PlayStation underneath are to the right. The curtains are wide open with sun shining bright enough to make the whole place liven up.

There’s also the tiny aspect of the decor that she assumes was the boys’ touch. Road signs and traffic cones and even something long and thin that seems a little too much like a ramp are scattered across the living area. Above the couch is a massive pin board with a lot of notes, letters, postcards, schemes and designs for something that resembles cars; and all of this is put together by several different strings of fairy lights, pinned all around the walls—even the  _ ceiling _ —looking like weeds, almost.

Kie lets out a surprised, breathy laugh.

It’s not that it isn’t nice. It just… not what she expected, really.

(The surfer girl in her is living for this.)

John B goes to stand in front of her, arms spread wide and a dumb grin on his face. In the middle of the living room, like this, he looks like the king of his castle – Kie’s laugh becomes a little firmer.

‘And?’ 

She grins, wide and honest. ‘I love it.’

The boys cheer and John B flings himself at Pope, next to Kie, smacking a high-five to his hand. They walk further into the room. Pope goes into the kitchen, and Kie and John B take a seat on the barstools. He gives them a glass of water, each (‘Sarah and I are doing this healthy living thing, so I only drink water and milkshakes.’)

‘This place is really nice,’ Kie admits, then nods towards the collection of things from the road with a smirk. ‘Not very legal, though.’

‘Are you a cop?’ asks John B.

‘No?’

‘Do you  _ know  _ a cop?’

__ ‘… _ no _ ?’

‘Will you  _ tell  _ a cop?’

‘Look, if you get me drunk enough, I’ll be the one adding some more to the collection.’

If there was any tension between them, it dissipated in this very moment. Kie’s statement seems to confirm the boys’ assumptions – she is going to become one of them, they tell her that much. It’s this fact that earns Kie a lunch because she arrived here, and John B lunch because he brought her here. JJ earns his lunch by simply not being here to make his own, according to Pope, who Kie learns absolutely adores cooking.

It’s lovely. They have a good vibe between them and they’re not excluding her, and she feels comfortable around them.

John B takes her to her room shortly after they’re all done eating their tacos.

‘There you go,’ he says, opening the door to her room. ‘It’s not much, but…’

Kie walks in and feels herself smiling. ‘I love it.’

It’s a cosy room – queen-sized bed with soft purple bedding, a long desk right underneath the window looking west with a simple white desk lamp from IKEA with a black wooden chair, three shelves on each side of the window, and a modest closet that she already knows she’ll only half fill with the things she brought. There’s enough floorspace for her to bring some decorations in (maybe a mirror and some plants – Kie always wanted that.) Her suitcases in the space between the closet and the wall, with her black backpack perched on top of one.

Like John B said, it’s not much, but it already feels more like home than her actual bedroom ever did.

‘The bedsheets, uh, they’re Sarah’s, but she’s okay with you keeping them.’ 

‘I’ll give them back, don’t worry.’ Kie opens the window wide, letting fresh air in. ‘What’s her favourite chocolate?’

The boy frowns, thinking. His arm is leaning on the doorframe and his forehead against his arm, and he looks both quite out of place and perfectly in place.

‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘She prefers milkshakes, anyway. You know, that homemade stuff. She’s trying to get me into that, but it’s just too much effort, y’know?’

‘Effort is always too much.’

‘I know, right?’ John B groans, playing along (or maybe he doesn’t notice the teasing in her voice.) ‘Anyway, I’ve got stuff to do. Pope said he’d make dinner for everybody tonight, I can let you know when that’s ready, if you want. I was thinking about having a chill night, but you’re tired, JJ isn’t back yet, and I don’t know where Kelce is, so we should do it some other time.’

Kie frowns. ‘Is Kelce not around often?’

‘Eh,’ says John B, shrugging. ‘He doesn’t like us very much, I think, but he just stays away.’

This Kelce guy doesn’t sound like he’ll be as nice to be around as the two she’s met so far, but Kie doesn’t allow concern about that to take over.

‘Knock on my door, then. I’m a light sleeper.’

John B nods, wishes her a good nap, and closes the door when he leaves.

The silence that befalls is different than the one back home. There, she could always hear the vastness of the empty space when her parents aren’t around; she would be drowning in knowing that she’s the only being alive on the premises. Even this tiny bedroom seemed more alive – if she leans out of the window, she can see Kildare around her. The apartment breaths with life.

For a moment, Kie just looks around, trying to rewrite her life in her head –  _ this  _ is her life now. This little bedroom, four guys out of whom two are suspiciously kind and the other two she hasn’t met, and Kildare.

It’s not a dream. The bed she sits on is a little creaky but the bedding is soft and smells like her grandmother’s backyard, and it’s  _ real _ .

All of this is real.

Kie starts crying.

—

A couple hours later, John B’s knock wakes her up. She tells him she’ll be there in a few and he replies something she doesn’t catch, but she hears footsteps before she can ask. 

Rolling over on the bed sheets, still wearing the clothes she travelled in, Kie feels like she woke up in a different reality. Before her nap, she managed to compose herself enough to get some of her belongings sorted – the books she brought are on the shelves, her journal and a pen are on the desk, and a clean change of clothes is neatly folded on the chair. The room still doesn’t really feel  _ hers _ , but it’s starting to.

(She doesn’t want to think ahead of herself, so she doesn’t think about tomorrow, or the day after, or whatever is going to happen with jobs and— _ No. _ )

Kie rubs her eyes. Her stomach grumbles and she pushes herself off the bed; the beige walls look brighter than they were when she fell asleep. She opens the window again, leaning through it – she can see someone’s window being wide open on her floor. She wonders if it’s John B or that JJ guy.

Kildare looks pretty from here. The view isn’t the greatest, but it’s unfamiliar, and Kie loves that.

It takes her nearly half an hour to get herself to the kitchen. She ends up opting for a shower, first, because priorities are priorities and she washed herself in the disgusting bus stations for  _ days _ .

She’s halfway through showering, hair all wet, when she realises that she doesn’t have a shampoo. Or anything else, for that matter. Which is terrible, because Kie is quite particular about her shower routine and the fact that he’s prevented from enjoying it,  _ truly  _ puts a damper on her day. Using someone else’s shower gel, shampoo, conditioner, all of that… It’s not her favourite.

In this situation, she wouldn’t really wash her hair if that’s the case (it’s  _ curly _ , okay) but there’s someone’s coconut shampoo for dry hair and a matching conditioner and okay, maybe she’ll steal a little bit of that. The shower gel is one of the minty Axe ones and she knows that she will smell like a man, but it’s either that or keeping on the smell of all the buses she’d been on.

(She hopes no one will notice.)

The bathroom itself is smaller than she expected, but there’s a toilet and a shower tub and a mirror over a sink with a cupboard behind the glass, and it’s cute. The only thing she notes is that there’s only one of everything. Could it  _ really  _ be only one person using the bathroom? She’s the only one in this end of the corridor, and the only thing here aside from her bedroom and the bathroom is the storage that also serves as the laundry room.

It could be any of the boys. Or, actually, she assumes it can’t be Pope or Kelce, since they have a bathroom in their corridor. Probably John B, then – he seems like he cares enough about the way he looks to have some nicer hair products.

Looking in the foggy mirror, Kie feels as if the mirror is making her face look thinner than it is. That could be the case, but knowing what kind of stress she’d put herself under for the past few days… and the lack of eating…

She leaves the bathroom looking a bit better for the wear, and smelling like a minty coconut.

( _ I’m not trying to make an impression _ , she tells herself, but the lie falls flat even in her own head.)

Kie dries hair quickly with a fancy cotton towel she took—stole?—from home. She puts on the clean clothes, feeling very Lara Croft-y in her black tank top and denim shorts; it’s a confidence boost, for sure. She finishes it off with a pair of converse trainers (she forgot to pack slippers) and sets out for the kitchen. The smell of food fills the corridor, and her stomach churns.

‘What smells so good?’ she asks, right before entering.

‘Hey, Kiara.’ Pope’s leaning on the island counter as he eats out of a massive pot with a spoon, giving her a warm grin. ‘You’re looking fresh.’

‘Had a shower. Works wonders. It’s Kie for friends, by the way.’ Pope hums in response and Kie approaches the kitchen, looking into the pot. It looks like a bolognese sauce, except the colour seems is more of an orange than a begie, and there’s a few scents to it she can’t identify. ‘What’s that?’

‘Bolognese a la Pope Heyward. I’ll get you a spoon and a fork.’

‘Is it spaghetti?’

‘It’s penne, why?’

Kie pretends to gag, taking a seat at the island counter. ‘I hate spaghetti. I just can’t’—she makes a rounding motion with her hands—‘ _ twist  _ it the right way.’

Pope laughs as he hands her a plate and a fork. He has a nice laugh, Kie notes – it involves the entirety of his face, with his eyebrows going up a little bit. It’s sweet.

‘Yeah, spaghetti tends to be ridiculous sometimes,’ he tells her, leaning on his elbow against the counter. ‘You’ve got to cook them just the right way. Timing and salt is everything.’

‘I don’t like to cook by the rules, so precise dishes don’t really suit me.’

‘You’re more the type to cook by the heart?’

‘Eh, I guess you could say that.’ She takes the fork and pushes the penne around until it’s all mixed together – and realises just how much food that is. She brings her eyes to meet Pope’s. ‘This looks absolutely amazing, but I don’t think I’ll be able to eat all of it.

He waves her off. ‘JJ will finish it, if you don’t. He told me to leave him everything that’s not eaten by the end of the day, although he had  _ more  _ than a fair share already.’

Kie perks up at this, a forkful of food halfway to her mouth. ‘He’s home? I thought John B said he was at work.’

‘He came back about an hour ago. Wanted to use the shower after eating, but you must’ve been using his bathroom, so he went for a jog instead.’

_ There’s no way— _

_‘His_ bathroom? But I thought John B said everything was communal.’

She should’ve known the toiletries would belong to one of the two flatmates she hasn’t met. She should’ve known that at some point, her luck had to start running out.

Kie runs a hand through her hair and the scent of coconut and mint both engulf her; she pulls her hand down immediately, gauging Pope’s reaction.  _ Can he smell it on me? _

‘It’s communal,’ he says, ‘but he’s been the only one using that bathroom since Topper left. John B’s lazy, he likes to shower in the one that’s closer. Or at Sarah’s.’

‘So I  _ can  _ use it, right?’

‘Of course!’ he says, as if he hadn’t pretty much just told her it’s  _ JJ’s. ‘ _ JJ will get used to it, as long as you’re clean.’

Come think of it, the bathroom  _ was  _ unusually clean for a boy. ‘Is he a clean freak?’

‘No it’s more like… He just likes to have a safe space. It’s him and showers, or water in general – I often joke that he’s a siren.’

With her heart finally at peace, knowing that JJ won’t gauge her eyes out for taking a shower, Kie takes the first bite of Pope’s dish. It’s still warm and absolutely delicious, and he laughs when she lets something along the lines of a moan.

‘Pope, this is — oh my  _ god _ .’

Tilting his head down, the boy’s face stretches into a shy smile. He grabs a wet glass from the drying rack and starts wiping it with a cloth, leaning against the counters. ‘Thanks. I’m having a good day, so.’

He doesn’t finish. Kie takes another bite and says, ‘So you’re cooking for everybody.’

‘Yeah. Kind of.’

‘That’s pretty nice of you. I’ll cook tomorrow, if you’ll have me. I’m not the greatest of cooks, but there’s some Asian dishes I can cook pretty well and—’

‘Kie, that would be  _ amazing _ .’

‘Yeah, well – I try. Don’t judge before  _ you  _ try.’ Kie isn’t too keen on hyping herself up. Offering to cook is fine, but she doesn’t want anyone to have expectations.

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence; all Kie can hear is her munching on the bolognese, and Pope drying the dishes and putting them away (Kie makes a mental note of what goes where, and another note to ask what is communal and what isn’t.)

‘Why do you call JJ a siren?’

Pope seems a bit stricken with surprise at Kie’s question, but answers quickly regardless. ‘He’s like that. Mischievous, will die if away from a body of water for too long, lures a lot of people to his bedroom… He’s got quite a reputation.’

‘He’s a player,’ Kie interprets.

‘I— Yeah. Kind of.’ Pope makes a grimace that tells her he’s not the greatest fan of that. ‘It doesn’t happen to often, anymore. Work’s been keeping him really busy these past few months.’

Kie just nods. She’s not a fan of casual hookups herself (there’s gotta be… _ something  _ to them) and she usually doesn’t mind someone else doing that sort of thing, or one-night stands, but she doesn’t quite fancy the idea of random people being around the apartment.

It may be a bit evil, but Kie likes to hear he hasn’t been having sex as often.

(She doesn’t even know the first thing about the guy – it  _ is  _ evil.)

‘What does he do?’ she asks in an effort to distract herself.

‘Mechanics. Engineering.’

‘Mechanical engineering?’

Pope frowns and tilts his head, shaking it a little. ‘Not quite. It’s complicated. He’s a really smart guy, he’ll explain it to you himself. He should be back anytime now, I don’t know what’s taking him so long. Usually he jogs for half an hour only – must’ve been a long day at work.’

Kie opens her mouth to ask what JJ does for work, when she realises that she’d kind of already asked that. Instead, she finishes her meal and then washes up, listening to Pope talk about his own issues at work (he’s a coroner, which is only slightly morbid, but somehow fits him.) He talks about it a lot, so when John B joins them fresh out of the shower and lets them know Sarah’s coming over in a bit, she’s saved. John B drags Pope into telling her some of the shenanigans the group has been up to during their long friendship, and Kie notices how much John B’s energy makes Pope more energetic.

That’s the thing about John B – his energy is contagious even when he’s not the one talking the most. Even Kiara feels more awake than she did minutes earlier.

Nothing about moving to Kildare is how she expected it to be. It seems too easy – too natural. John B and Pope accepted her into the apartment group as if she’d always been a part of it, and they’re all like a family ( _ cooking  _ for everybody? Where did  _ they  _ come from?) and Kie is not used to it.

She’s never had friends who felt like family. No, scratch that – she’s never had a  _ family  _ that felt this much like family.

Eventually, Kie goes to rest on the couch while John B updates Pope on the latest news about Kildare’s football team (Kie’s starting to think he might actually be a football coach, now.) Pope doesn’t seem to be listening that much, but John B doesn’t notice, so it’s fine.

She sees JJ for the first time about an hour since she came out of the shower, and he’s no more than a blotch in the corner of her eye as he marches from the main entrance into his room.

‘JJ?’ calls John B. No answer, but they hear a door shut. ‘Kiara’s here!’

‘Kie,’ Pope reminds him, and gives the girl a gentle smile.

No answer comes. The door shuts again. This time, Kie sees a boy slide by, too fast for her to see him properly – but he’s tall, with hair definitely a dirty blonde or a light brown.

Right before they hear the bathroom ( _ her  _ bathroom) door slam, a voice shouts, ‘I’ll be there in ten!’

Pope sighs. ‘Multiply that by two.’

‘Three.’

‘Maybe four, if he got  _ really  _ sweaty.’

‘He could be doing himself up for Kie.’

It’s an offhand comment that’s supposed to be a joke, including her in this whole banter thing, but Kie’s cheeks go ablaze at the idea. Not too long ago she was doing herself up for  _ them  _ in that very same bathroom.

( _ First impressions matter, okay? _ )

‘We apologise on JJ’s behalf,’ says Pope. He’s looking at her over the island counter, with one elbow propped up on it to hold his chin. ‘He can be a hardass sometimes.’

‘And he won’t apologise,’ adds John B. ‘Got a stick up his ass.’

‘He’s a nice guy, though.’

‘Yeah,’ Kie muses, ‘I can tell.’

The boys just sigh, telling her that they can’t convince her otherwise until he convinces her, and Kie starts cataloguing everything she knows about this JJ guy.

Tall, probably blonde, probably lean. Uses coconut-scented, quality hair products and keeps his bathrooms clean – high maintenance. Demanding, or at least that’s what she got from his asking Pope to save him the food. He seems to go on jogs often, so he’s probably sporty, caring either about his appearance or health. He’s got a job that keeps him busy and it’s got something to do with mechanics and engineering (but not together), so he’s probably quite smart. A player who’s currently on hold, so he could be cranky if there’s a lot of sexual frustration pent up. Slightly possessive ( _ his  _ bathroom?) and not really the one for manners, if him not introducing himself is anything to go by.

From what the boys told her, she thought he’d be fun – the guy she has in her head doesn’t seem like the guy who’d tape fairy lights all over the living room and decorate it with stolen road signs, or really like the ocean.

So, JJ – Kie’s not his biggest fan.

(He definitely pales in comparison to John B and Pope. Maybe he doesn’t take change well; maybe he doesn’t like newcomers in his inner circle.

She isn’t already making excuses for his behaviour.)

There’s the irritating iPhone message chime somewhere in the room, interrupting whatever conversation the boys have been having while she’s thinking about their friend. John B reaches into his pocket and reads the message from his phone. ‘Sarah’s here. I’ll go get her, JJ must’ve locked the door.’

‘Dumbass,’ says Pope, as if locking the door isn’t the sensible thing to do.

(Maybe JJ isn’t  _ all  _ bad.)

Surprisingly, Kie isn’t too bothered about the girlfriend coming up. She sounds nice, from what John B has told her, and she’s actually looking forward to a dash of femininity in the place.

Sarah Cameron ends up being an incredibly lovely girl, and a completely suitable match for John B – neither of them know when to shut up. In a good way, of course, because Kie  _ likes  _ listening to both of them.

‘So, how are you enjoying your room? I wanted to get you some plants and stuff, but John B said it’s probably best if you get them yourself. I know you probably don’t know a lot of people in Kildare and I thought I’d help out. Boys, as you know, aren’t the best at being welcoming.’

‘Actually, I’d say they’ve been pretty welcoming.’ Despite the fact that her housemates are engaged in a very passionate conversation about something, she doesn’t want to trash-talk them. ‘Better than I expected, anyway.’

Sarah chuckles, draping an arm over the back of the couch. ‘Just you wait, honestly. They’re absolutely ridiculous, I love them. They’re chaotic as it is, but with JJ around, it’s all hell breaking lose.’

‘That bad?’

‘That bad.’

_ Exciting _ , crosses Kie’s mind in a sarcastic tone, until she realises that she genuinely is excited at the prospect of chaos. His life’s been lacking it for a good few years now, if she’s being honest. Besides, all these conflicting statements about JJ and the lack of any mention of Kelce whatsoever is making her curious about the two missing housemates.

And Sarah is nice, which is why she says, ‘We can go get some plants together, if you’re down. I’ve been meaning to get some anyway.’

The blonde clasps her hands together, cheeks stretching into a wide grin. ‘Great! Could you do tomorrow? After three, though, because I’ll be in kindergarten until then.’

‘Yeah, tomorrow sounds great, just let me know when you’re back here.’

_ And any other day. Any time. It’s not like I’ve got somewhere to be. _

Another part of her mind concerns with the whole “kindergarten” part, but she figures she’ll find out, eventually.

‘You drive?’ asks Sarah.

‘Yeah, but I don’t have a car here. Yet.’

She thinks of her car back home – it was a  _ nice  _ car. Kie loved that car, especially when something would need fixing and she and her dad would get into their ugly and old clothes and—

Kie rests her arm on the back of the couch, glancing at the girl sitting next to her. She’s wearing a floral tube top and high-waisted denim jeans, with her blonde hair loose save for the two front pieces on each side that she plaited – it’s an effortlessly chic look.

‘That’s fine,’ she says. ‘I can drive. I’m honestly so happy there’s finally a girl in the flat, I’ve been telling them that this place is lacking a feminine touch for  _ ages _ . As much as I love them, it gets a little too full of testosterone sometimes.’

‘Oh, I don’t think I’ll be giving it much of a feminine touch.’

It’s a joke, but it catches Pope’s attention: ‘The most feminine thing we’ve got is JJ’s coconut hair set. I feel like that says enough.’

Kie’s cheeks flare up at the comment. She tells herself no one will connect the dots despite her  _ smelling  _ like minty coconut. First things first, she needs to go shopping tomorrow, and she’s happy to hear that Sarah is more than willing to accompany her.

‘So, shopping tomorrow?’ asks the blonde.

John B makes a groan that sounds a lot like “ _ girls”,  _ but blows Sarah an air kiss the moment she gives him the death glare.

Kie doesn’t hide her laughter, and neither does Pope hide his groan that sounds a lot like “ _ couples”.  _ It only makes Kie laugh harder, before she composes herself.

‘Shopping, definitely. I  _ need  _ things.’

‘And we can go sightseeing. I know all the best places in Kildare—’

‘Unless you’re showing her the Boneyard, you’re not showing her anything worth seeing.’

Her eyes are drawn to the unfamiliar voice coming from the corridor, and she stifles a small gasp.

Kiara Carrera has seen a fair share of shirtless boys throughout her life. Most of them, however, were expected – at the beach, at the pool, or in the bedroom. Most of them she was mentally prepared for and they didn’t catch her off-guard. Realistically, she knows he just came out of the shower – but there is absolutely  _ no fucking need  _ for him to be walking around in  _ just a towel _ , and a loosely wrapped one around his waist most of all. Not with hair that’s still damp and dripping down his bare torso, making him look like he’s glistening.

And Kie’s got eyes – the lean muscle covering the entirety of his torso and arms doesn’t go unnoticed.

(It should.)

Pope sighs as the group watches JJ make a beeline for the hob with the sauce and the pasta on it. ‘And this is JJ,’ he says. ‘JJ, Kie.’

__ She tries looking everywhere but his body, and it’s surprisingly difficult. ‘Hey.’

The blond boy glances in her direction and nods, then glances at John B. ‘I went to the pier today. Had a fucking  _ day  _ at the workshop, the fucking asshole kept giving me the most tedious jobs just because I told him he was wrong.’

‘Was he?’

JJ snorts and fills up a plate. ‘Fuck yeah.’

As he continues telling the boys about his day, munching on the food with his back turned to Kie, Sarah indulges her in a conversation about music. Kie tries to focus, she really does because she really appreciates the girl trying so hard, but she can’t focus on anything when she’s staring at the back of someone built like  _ that _ .

Besides, he’s acting like Kie’s not even there. She tells herself that she isn’t hurt, that she expected something like that – she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and…

Yeah.

He doesn’t even so much as  _ look  _ at her.

Not too long after that, Kie bids her goodbyes as she goes back to her room. Things seem a little weighty now that JJ’s around and the boys seem to not understand that there’s something off – it’s easier to just leave the room.

She’s got to unpack, anyway. There’s a load of clothes and knick-knacks she took from home that she needs to put somewhere.

Kie begins with her backpack, seeing as it’s got the least things in it. The first thing she takes out is the phone and the charger along with it; the device is heavy in her hand. If she turns it on, she knows she’ll have dozens of missed calls and texts, despite her leaving a note before she left.

The note doesn’t matter. They don’t understand.

(That’s why she left, but it’s not like they’ll understand that, either.)

She puts it off for a while but the pressure is on the fact that she applied to jobs with this phone number and she needs to be available. If she wants to act like a grown up then there’s some sacrifices that need to be made.

Reluctantly, Kie plugs the phone into the charger, but doesn’t turn it on just yet.

—

Kie doesn’t plan on seeing anyone again. It’s nearly two in the morning already, so she doesn’t think before she goes to the kitchen wearing nothing but an old Bob Dylan sweater and pyjama shorts.

She just wants some berry tea, really, because falling asleep in a strange bed is more difficult than she thought.

The fairy lights are on – all of them. The blue light is bright enough to shine the corridor, reflecting pleasantly from the brown walls. Kie rubs her eyes, having come out of a completely dark room.

It’s almost intimate, the little differences in colour from one set of lights to another; all in different shades of blue. It must be John B, but hopefully she doesn’t walk in on him and Sarah – not like she’s judging a book by its cover, but both of them seemed confident and open enough so that Kie wouldn’t be surprised if they have a sort of a public kink, or something.

(Sometimes it’s fun to be risky; the possibility of getting caught adds a certain kind of flavour.)

Kie steps into the kitchen, and the light shines on the back of JJ’s tee.

_ Fuck _ .

This is, like, the worst case scenario. Of all the people—

‘Hi,’ she says.

JJ doesn’t react. He’s fiddling with something on the counter, his body swaying from side to side in rhythm. He turns his head a bit to the right, reaching for a cutting knife, and she finally sees the earbuds.

Kie lets out a heavy sigh, feeling her fingers going a little cold.

(It’s not from the room temperature, because the apartment is roasting.)

Bracing herself, Kie makes a beeline for the kettle, feeling much like JJ earlier today. He still doesn’t notice; he’s humming along to a song and it’s familiar enough that she almost gets it. She checks the kettle—empty—and turns to fill it up when she nearly bumps into the blond’s chest.

JJ whisper-screams a profanity, just whatever he was holding thumps on the ground.

Kie flinches, too, so she figures an apology isn’t necessary (it’s not like she  _ wanted  _ to scare him. She  _ said  _ hi.)

Still, she takes a step back. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to— We must’ve turned around at the same time.’

‘Yeah, must’ve.’ JJ crouches and picks up the bread and whatever’s fallen out of it, all with a melodramatic sigh. ‘Can I eat that?’

She looks at his hands – ham, cheese, pickles, and a sauce. She feels her face distort. ‘Absolutely not.’

JJ sighs again, then throws it all into the bin. Kie notices he hasn’t taken out the earbuds as she fills up the kettle and sets it to boil; he delves into the fridge and starts making another sandwich.

_ Rude. _

Then again, it is the middle of the night. She’s not feeling very chatty, either.

She starts making her tea and struggles to find the mugs and the teabags, but doesn’t ask for help. It’s odd; all she can hear is the clanking of her moving around the kitchen, JJ preparing a sandwich, and his humming along to the music in his ears.

It’s exhausting.

‘How come you’re still up?’ she asks. He doesn’t acknowledge her so she taps on his shoulder, waits until he takes an earbud out, and asks again. ‘Can’t sleep?’

‘I’ve got work.’

He doesn’t elaborate. Kie’s jaw clenches and she lets out a huff, just in time for it to be drowned out by the sound of the kettle boiling.

She goes to tend to her tea, then looks back at JJ – it must be a good sign that the earbud is still hanging off his neck. ‘What’s the Boneyard?’

‘You still don’t know?’

JJ’s tone is demeaning, almost amused – and Kie doesn’t like it the least, so she decides to be just as respectful. ‘Would I be asking if I did?’

He looks at her, for once; his eyes gaze into hers as if he’s trying to decipher her. The chuckle he lets out is a little more amused and the corners of his lips turn upwards ever so slightly.

That’s the closest to a smile she’s seen on him so far.

‘No, guess not.’

‘So, you gonna tell me?’

His hands come to a still. He frowns, then grins. ‘That’s for you to find out.’

_ Right _ .

Kie has two options here – fall back, make her tea and leave, not cause any trouble, be the best possible flatmate she could be so they don’t kick her out. If JJ doesn’t like her, that’s on him. It’s also probably what he’s expecting, for her to do all the work.

A smile flutters on her lips. Kie has never been one for choosing the passive option.

‘What’s your deal?’ she asks, pulling her mug up to her chest. ‘Having a bad day?’

He looks at her with his head tilted a little; she’s pretty sure there’s annoyance written in the wrinkle between his brows, tiredness in his bright eyes. ‘Have I not made that clear enough? What’s with all the questions?’

‘Dunno.’ She shrugs, holding her mug to her chest. ‘We’re living together, shouldn’t we try to get to know each other?’

‘I don’t really care, to be honest.’

He might’ve as well just slapped her across the face. She blinks and swallows the sudden lump in her throat. ‘Right.’

JJ puts the new sandwich on a plate and he starts walking out of the kitchen when he turns on his heel, sighing. ‘Okay, what’s your deal, then? Why’d you come all the way here from Outer Banks on such a short notice? What are you running from?’

The blue light is behind JJ, softening his silhouette and making him look like he’s glowing. Menacing or benevolent, Kie would go for the former. Her blood runs cold and that’s not a feeling she wants to experience in her new home.

(But the way he’s looking at her, it’s not menacing. It’s curious – it’s as if he wants to gauge her reaction more than the answer itself.)

_ What are you running from? _

Instead of giving him what he wants, Kie takes a sip of her tea and ignores the liquid scorching her tongue. ‘That’s for you to find out.’

JJ raises his eyebrows and she thinks she sees a smile betraying him in the corners of his lips, shaking his head. ‘See?’

‘See what?’

‘Questions,’ he says, ‘they’re too much.’

He’s the type of guy Kie usually cannot stand – full of self-assurance and bravado that may or may not be real. He also knows how to get someone like Kie, usually very vocal and confident, into tripping over her own words.

At a loss for words, she squeezes herself into the counter so he can pass between her and the chair, when his head tilts, nose scrunched, and his eyes glancing at her hair. ‘Do we have the same shampoo?’

‘Oh, I used some of yours,’ she replies, pressing her mug even closer to her chest, forcing herself to not look away from him. ‘Sorry. I didn’t have my own, but I’ll get it tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘It’s fine, just don’t do it again.’

‘Okay.’

He turns around the island counter and for a moment, she thinks he’s going to sit there and her mind starts wondering whether that would make her want to stay in the kitchen more or less. But he keeps walking and nods at her from the entrance into the corridor, muttering an almost inaudible ‘goodnight.’

Kie waits for about a minute, sipping her tea, before she turns off the fairy lights and goes back to her room.

(She thinks about how fluffy JJ’s hair is when dry; how deep the circles under his eyes looked under the intensity of the blue light; about the tension in his shoulders that was present the entire time she was in the kitchen.)

She plops into her bed, finishing off her tea. Her phone’s still on the desk, now fully charged, calling to her.

It’s been nearly a whole day. Dragging it out will make the whole thing more painful than it already is, so she takes it in her hands, and holds the button on the side.

Kie spends the next fifteen minutes scrolling through the sea of messages her parents have drowned her phone in. Not just her parents – there’s messages from aunts and uncles, great aunts and cousins, both sets of grandparents as well. Much like she expected, instead of keeping their problems to themselves, her parents made them everybody else’s.

Some of the messages were encouraging – her dad’s mum told her to stay safe and smart and return home whenever she’s ready; her mum’s sister said that she understands her choice. Some were the exact opposite – a lot of them called her ungrateful, or attention seeking, or childish and irresponsible.

The worst one was from her mother. Granted, it was followed by an apology and a change of attitude, but the message is clear.

_ If you really think you’re ready to leave, be ready to make it permanent. _

Kiara goes to sleep with one thought on her mind, and it’s that even with a housemate she doesn’t like, and one that she doesn’t know, and being on completely foreing ground, moving to Kildare was the smartest decision of her fucking life.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! this was supposed to be the shortest chapter (i expected 2k) and then it got really out of hand, hence why it's so late. i reckon the chapters will be around this length, but there's absolutely no guarantee, honestly. all i know is that this is loosely based on real life and i'm loving every minute of writing this, even if i'm pulling my hair out because i can't get the conversation right. (that's mostly bc i haven't seen the series since may and i'm mostly basing this off other fics and tumblr posts and yes, that is absolutely my own fault.)
> 
> but yeah, tell me what you thought, your theories on what might happen and why jj might be acting this way, or whatever's on your mind! you also can come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://maybankiara.tumblr.com). i post loads of shorter jiara fics on there.


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